Do you want to build a snowman?
by RStiltskinned
Summary: Inspired by the song from "Frozen". A chance encounter on the rooftop opens up new possibilities for Erik and Christine's relationship. Old wounds are mended, new bonds are formed. Leroux/Kay. One-shot.


It was snowing.

It was snowing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Erik found that he actually got some enjoyment out of the cold, white flakes that silently fell to the ground.

Pulling his woolen coat more tightly around him, he stepped out into the frigid air onto the opera house's roof. The snow had already laid a thick, white blanket over everything, and even Erik who was so sure on his feet had to take care not to slip. Usually, he would have been carefully trying to avoid anyone seeing him, but with weather such as this, Erik doubted that anyone would look up to the roof of the Palais Garnier. He came to stand at the edge of the roof and let his gaze fall over city that lay before him. Other people might have found Paris in winter to be a dull sight, bleak and gray, but Erik found peace in the tranquility and darkness that winter provided.

He was indeed in high spirits today, and a smile – a true smile, not a grimace – slowly crept across his face. And did he not have reason to be joyful? After all, Christine Daaé – his angel, his muse_, his Christine_ – had agreed to be his friend.

His friend! How absurd it seemed, even now, how surreal!

Erik had believed that he had lost her forever when she had unmasked him and seen his horrifying face. He had been angry with her, so very angry! Poor Christine! She had become his prisoner, she whom he had sworn to love! When he had finally released her, he had made her wear his ring. He had made her swear to return to him – although he did not truly believe that she would, despite his threats and pleas.

But he had been wrong! She had returned – reluctantly, but still, she had been there, in his home. And she had told him that she wanted to know him – him, Erik, not the angel, not the ghost, but him. "Let us be friends, Erik," she had said. And even though his instincts had screamed at him not to trust her, to lock her away and keep her in his dungeon with him like a dragon and his treasure, so that she could never flee from him again, all that had come out of his misshapen mouth in the end was "I would like that." And that had been that – they had parted – as friends, or so it seemed.

The sound of snow crunching under somebody's boot startled Erik out of his musings; instinctively, he reached for the Punjab lasso hidden in his pocket, but then thought better of it; surely Christine would not be to pleased to learn that her new "friend " had snapped the neck of some foolish human being.

Instead, Erik chose to hide behind a statue, carefully peering out from behind to see who had disturbed him. He caught a glimpse of golden curl and a red scarf…Christine? Could it be…? Why yes, it was her! But what was she doing out up here, especially during a time when he knew she should be at rehearsals?

He stepped out from his hiding place; his sudden appearance drew a startled gasp from her. "Why Erik! What are you doing up here?" She looked at him, blue eyes wide with surprise; to his immense relief, there was no fear to be found in them.  
"Erik might be asking you the same thing, Christine. Shouldn't you be at rehearsals?" he replied, the strict tone of the teacher slipping into his voice. His more personal feelings set aside, he would not allow the girl to endanger her career.

"The rehearsals were cancelled. La Carlotta was so unmanageable today that Monsieur Reyer thought it wiser to continue tomorrow." A frown marred Christine's features as she spoke of the loathsome prima donna. "But you did not answer my question – why are _you_ up here?" Erik, who had mentally been composing a letter to the managers regarding La Carlotta's lack of professionalism, looked up at her question. "Your Erik enjoys the silence that one can find here. And his lungs are not against a bit of fresh air now and then," he told her, and enjoyed the small smile that his answer elicited.

"Do you like the snow?" she asked further. "I do. It reminds me of the time when papa and I would build snowmen-" She broke off there, the memory of her beloved father clearly too painful. Erik suddenly wished he could simply embrace her, but he knew such actions from his side were most likely not welcomed. Suddenly, an insane thought overcame him, and he blurted out "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Christine stared at him, aghast, and Erik wished, not for the first time in his life, that the ground would simply swallow him.

"Yes."

Now it was Erik's turn to look aghast; surely the girl did not actually expect him to build a snowman with her! But oh, how her eyes suddenly shone with excitement! Who was her to deny her? "I must confess, I have never built a snowman before," he admitted sheepishly. "Really? Not even as a child?" Christine asked with surprise. "No," Erik replied uncomfortably. "Erik's mother did not like him to go outside where someone might have seen her monstrous excuse for a son."

Pity briefly flickered through her eyes before being replaced by fierce determination. "Then it is high time you built one!" she exclaimed, and with that, she took him by the hand – Erik's heart stopped only to beat twice as fast the next moment – and pulled him with her.

Some time and many botched attempts later – who knew snow could be so tricky to shape? – Erik was in the process of building a rather impressive snowman – or rather, snowwoman, for the construction rather resembled La Carlotta – while Christine posed for him. Had someone told him only weeks earlier that he might find himself in this situation, he would have laughed before sending the fool of to his torture chamber. But now? He was half convinced that this was a dream. Yet there was his Christine, holding herself in a ridiculous pose she had mimicked from La Carlotta, and laughing. She was in his company, and yet she was laughing as freely as if she were with one of her friends from the corps de ballet. Erik had been quite amused to find that his angel was rather good at imitating the dreaded diva, strutting up and down and spewing forth commands in a mock Italian accent.

"You must-a bring-a me dis and-a dat!"

"I want dis done a-now! Ma no, you have not got it a-done!"

"Monsieur Reyer, dat useless orchestra of yours is-a drowning me out again!"

He could not remember when – or even if – he had last laughed so. And then Christine had had the idea to shape their snowman after Carlotta. "She has amused us so today," Christine reasoned, "that she deserves to have a monument built in her honour!" Erik did not object to this and did as Christine asked. Now he gave Carlotta's snow skirt one last pat before getting up and brushing snow from his knees. "What do you think Christine? Is she just as cold-hearted as she is in real life?" Christine giggled – yet another delightful sound she was capable of producing, Erik noted – and came to stand beside Erik to admire their handiwork. "She looks magnificent, Erik! You have done well! And oh, was that not fun?" She beamed up at him, and he was quite certain that she was going to give him a stroke soon if she continued doing that. "Yes," he replied softly, "That was…fun." God, how alien that word felt on his tongue! Such innocent "fun" he had never known before. In other places, other times; there had been "fun" of a rather different, malicious sort. But this? This was bliss.

"Thank you for doing this with me," Christine said, her voice full of sincerity. "Since my father's passing I have not had the heart to build a snowman without him. Thank you for giving me back a little bit of happiness."

Erik was dumbfounded. He had given her _happiness_? He, of all people? He knew he could give her bliss through his music, but to know that he had made her happy simply by spending his time with her frolicking in the snow made him light-headed. Did she not know that it was she who was the one giving happiness to the other? Could it be that he really did the same for her? Erik stared at Christine, who met his puzzled gaze with a warmth he dared not hope might be affection.

Christine's brow furrowed, and the moment was gone. Suddenly agitated, she asked him whether he knew the time. Checking his pocket watch, he informed her that it was four thirty. "My God!" exclaimed Christine frantically "I promised Mama Valerius to be home by four! She will be so worried! Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry, but you must excuse me-" He held up his hand to stop her ramblings. "You need not apologise, dear child. You have given Erik the most precious gift of your company for many hours, and Erik could not be happier." Christine blushed prettily at that. "Then I am glad Erik. Perhaps next time, we can do something else you have not tried out before?"

Next time? There would be a next time? Another moment of such bliss?

Christine looked up at him expectantly, her blue eyes filled again with that dangerous warmth. Oh, if only she knew what she did to him!

"Yes," he replied weakly, "Next time."


End file.
